Page 117 of A Shot at Love
“This is really me?”
“Have you glanced at a mirror lately?” she asked. “Don’t you know what you look like?”
“Not like this, that’s for sure. What did you do to the picture? Photoshop it?”
He knew he’d hit a chord when her back went straight up against the couch. He expected a tongue-lashing but was floored when she took a breath and said, “I didn’t do a thing to the photo except copy it in black and white and blow it up so your head wasn’t shown.” She pushed the keyboard to scroll through the others in the series to show him the originals.
“Here, this proves it’s you.”
The pictures showed up in a grid of four on the screen, each one untouched, in color, and with his face on display.
“I’ve said this before, you’re an amazing photographer.” He reached out for her hand and, bringing it to his lips, kissed it. “But I never realized what a true artist you are, Gemma.”
She shrugged off the compliment, but her eyes softened when she looked across at him.
“You really don’t know this is how you look? What I see every time I look at you?”
He shook his head.
He turned his attention to the photos with his face not cropped out. As he’d known her to do before, she’d snapped a half dozen within a few seconds to, as she’d told him, capture the perfect expression. He may not be an expert on technique, but in every shot he saw the same thing: a man looking at the woman he loved.
Truth in art.
“I want to use the one without your head for my portfolio on my website,” she said.
“No.”
“No one will know it’s you, Ky. Ever.”
“No.”
“I promise. Without a face, it’s just a gorgeous torso. It could be any guy.”
“The medallion is a dead giveaway.”
“I’ll edit it out,” she said quickly.
“It’s not gonna show up in one of your books somewhere in the future?”
She grinned and slid over to him. Taking the laptop, she put it down on the coffee table and took its place on his lap, straddling him. With her hands twined around his neck she told him, “I promise I’ll only do books of faces, famous people, or buildings for any future publications.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” He tugged her shirt from the waistband of her skirt, slipped his hands under the silk.
“Because you’re a federal officer, trained to be highly skeptical and disbelieving. Oh!”
He smiled at her reaction to his hands teasing and pinching her nipples through her thin lace bra.
“Speaking of jobs,” he said, slipping his hands under the band and unhooking the clasp, “your brother-in-law cornered me at the party.” He cupped each of her now freed breasts and squeezed.
Gemma threw back her head, effectively pushing her breasts closer to him. “O-Oh? What did he want?”
The tiny panting breaths she pushed through her lips as he circled her now pebbled nipples with his thumbs had the zipper on his pants straining against him.
Ky lifted her shirt up and tossed it over his shoulder, her bra following. Naked to the waist now before him, he feasted on her beautiful breasts. He pulled one of the tight peaks into his mouth, bit down with just the right amount of pressure and grinned when her body vibrated against him.
“Somehow he found out that I’ve been thinking about not going back to work,” he said against her warm soft flesh.
Gemma fisted her now shaking hands in his hair. “I might have mentioned…something when I met Kandy for lunch the other day. About you being disillusioned by…everything that happened. Oh, sweet Jesus! Don’t stop that. Please don’t stop that.”
God, he loved how he could seduce her. The way she responded to his touch each and every time was a marvel. She’d begun gliding slowly, rhythmically, back and forth across his erection, and even through their clothes he could feel how wet she was.
He ran his tongue across her nipple, blew on it and then drew the other one into his mouth to suckle.
“Hmmm.” While slowly making love to her breast, Ky dragged down the zipper on her skirt, shoved through the waistband of her panties and filled his hands with her firm butt cheeks.
